


Centennial Boy

by Jeff_Excellence



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pokemon Ranger
Genre: Gen, Very mild hurt/comfort, based on Shadows of Almia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:55:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21961696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jeff_Excellence/pseuds/Jeff_Excellence
Summary: Altru Inc.'s youngest, brightest employee finds a new friend: the company's secret asset.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 24





	Centennial Boy

**Author's Note:**

> This was a piece I wrote in June for the Mission Clear!! zine dedicated to the Pokémon Ranger series of games, which I had a lot of fun working on! You can find them on twitter @missionclear_zn and I strongly recommend picking up a copy, to access some bonus artwork for this. (shoutout to @araiyme for that!)
> 
> Special thanks to @charlsteas for helping me edit this, and everyone involved in the zine for being wonderful. :>

“Check out the brains on Isaac!”

“Isn’t he a clever-clogs?”

“The kind of genius that only comes along every hundred years.”

Ever since he first learnt to read, this kind of talk surrounded Isaac. It followed him through infancy, through childhood, through Ranger School, and it hadn’t stopped after graduation. Why would it? Spearheading the development of the Incredible Machine and leading the charge towards a brighter Almia at the age of fifteen was something he took great pride in. 

“You should be very proud,” Kincaid often reminded him. “Your commitment is invaluable to this great company. One day, our dreams will be recognised, and everyone in Almia will revere you.”

Isaac’s commitment was another thing he was proud of. Every day, he worked his socks off with few disturbances, from eight in the morning until eight at night. He rarely left his laboratory during work hours—why would he? There was no room to slack when a better world was at stake, and he needed no more company than his notebook. 

His notebook was opened to the day’s page as he went to report his progress to Kincaid, as was protocol, when a voice caught his attention. Specifically, an oily voice; more specifically, Mr. Hall’s voice.

“… you’ll recall that we extracted the crystal alongside its guardian.”

“Right, of course,” came Kincaid’s reply. “And what do you intend to do with it?”

Isaac figured that this was clearly a conversation of the utmost importance—after all, the President of Altru Inc. himself was involved—and, therefore, eavesdropping was impolite. 

“I’m transferring it here for the time being, and as you are in charge of operations in this tanker, I leave its safekeeping up to you.”

However, anything regarding the crystal regarded his work by extension; surely, then, he had a right to know?

“You do? Oh, what an honour that is, sir! I’ll be sure not to let you down. Is there, ah… is there anything I should know about it?”

“Well, this should go without saying, but this is a very dangerous creature with immense potential for causing great harm—both physical and mental—to anyone near it. It is also a vital asset to me, and an incredible deterrent against attacks on our facilities. As such, I expect that you isolate it. Store it in a safe place. Am I clear, Kincaid?”

“Clear as glass, sir.”

“Under no circumstances should you allow anyone to come into contact with it for any purpose other than vital research.”

“Of course.”

“That is all, Kincaid. Keep up the good work.”

As much as he almost felt dirty about eavesdropping, Isaac decided he simply had to know more as he made way for Mr. Hall. Not just because it involved his work (any information about the crystal was welcome, because Isaac wasn’t a fan of unknown quantities), but because every scientist worth their weight asked questions. 

“Oh, Isaac. Are you waiting to see Kincaid?”

“Ah—y-yes, sir. I hope that’s not an issue?”

“Of course not. Kincaid, you have another visitor.”

“Hm?” Kincaid’s business frown morphed into something softer as he got a glimpse around the door. “Oh! Do come in!”

“Thanks, Mr. Hall.” Isaac got a little nod from him as he walked in, closing the door as the smell of hairspray engulfed him. 

“So, Isaac, anything to report from today?”

With a hint of a smile, Isaac took a seat and offered his notebook. “You bet I do, Mr. Kincaid. Do you remember when you said those Gigaremo units were too impractical and heavy? Well, I drafted this design up for a portable version.”

“I—you did? Let me have a look.”

Kincaid took the notebook from Isaac’s hand, giving it a look over. A thorough one at that, even by his standards; he flipped pages back and forth, not peeling his eyes away from it for minutes on end without a sound. 

“Um—do you like it, Mr. Kincaid?”

“How long did all of this take?”

This wasn’t a question Isaac expected, and in this line of work, deviations from the norm were often undesirable. Isaac bit his finger, averting his gaze. “Since I came in this morning, Mr. Kincaid. I can—”

Kincaid was silent for a few more moments as the largest grin Isaac had ever seen him wear unfurled across his pale face. “Excellent work, boy. I’ll run this by some of our engineers and let them know, but this? It’ll boost our work by lightyears.”

“Really? It’s no problem, I’m simply doing my job, but… lightyears?”

“Isaac, you have devised in one day what many of our brightest minds could not in years.” Even when he was grinning like this, barely any of his facial muscles moved. “This is absurd. A work of genius that only comes along every hundred years. Now our crystal’s power can be fully utilised on the go!”

Isaac figured this was as good an excuse as any to bring it up as he took a deep breath. “O-oh, um, Mr. Kincaid, that reminds me: the thing you were discussing with Mr. Hall. I couldn’t help but overhear the crystal had a guardian?”

“Oh, that. Isaac, you don’t need to know.”

“But my whole line of work involves the crystal, Mr. Kincaid.”

“Correct, but—”

“What’s this guardian like? Will they help us understand it?”

“Isaac—”

“Where can I find them? Do the Rangers know about this? Can I ask—”

_ “Isaac. _ _”_

His voice sliced through the air like a knife through butter. “Drop this matter at once.”

“… Yes, Mr. Kincaid. I’m very sorry.”

“Don’t ask questions if you won’t like the answers, boy. Your work is invaluable to us, but that does not give you a pass to meddle in matters that are none of your concern. Now, if you have nothing more to report, make your way back to your quarters.”

Isaac complied with this request with an “aye aye, Mr. Kincaid”, and made his exit. He did not, however, drop the matter. If Altru Inc. valued him like he valued his work for them, then he had a right to know what was going on.

Some questions simply had to be answered, even if the truth wasn’t pleasant. 

* * *

One of the many things Isaac learned from Ranger School was what his worst nightmare was: sneaking around at the dead of night.

He gripped his keycard firmly in one hand and a black crystal fragment in the other, both of which trembled in the depths of his blazer pockets. A flashlight lit up the corridor perpendicular to his. Hiding behind some crates, he bit his tongue trying to stay quiet.

So far, his search for the crystal’s guardian had been fruitless. He’d been past twelve doors and counting, yet the most interesting thing he’d made out through the blurred screens was an Electabuzz. He was running out of hope. 

The flashlight did little to quell his nerves. He wasn’t entirely sure if time still moved as the torch’s glare crept down to the end of the hall, nor if his heart was still beating.

Then darkness filled the empty space and, honestly, Isaac had never been so thankful for it.

The footsteps started again, passing out of earshot, which was his cue to sneak out of cover and into the corridor. Once there, he was greeted with a new friend: moonlight. It peered through the blinds over the windows, illuminating the floor with slanted white lines that pointed to the door at the end of the hall.

Now, Isaac hated jumping to conclusions, but as he approached the door, he was certain that he heard rumbling. Deep, guttural rumbling of the sort Isaac had never heard. Not one to rule out anything prematurely, he made sure to check every door he tiptoed past. He even made sure to cup his ear towards them, just to be as safe as possible. 

Yet there was nothing unusual about any of them. Those rooms were quiet, lit by flickering fluorescents, populated by Pokémon Isaac had seen before. Pokémon whose distinct chirps and grunts he recognised, whose earthy scents he had grown acquainted with at Ranger School. 

And then he found his legs moving faster than he’d realised, and his breathing grew more panicked; Isaac was terrified by the prospect of being caught, but he couldn’t stop himself until he was just outside the door from which the rumbling came. No light pierced the screen, but the moonlight lit up the keycard lock and a warning that had been hammered into the door. “NO ENTRY FOR UNAUTHORISED PERSONNEL,” it read in great black letters, “DANGEROUS CREATURE AHEAD.”

A hammer pounded at Isaac’s heart like an oil drum, but his decision had been made. There was no turning back as he drew his keycard and swiped the lock, and he was almost as green as the light next to the door as he yanked the handle and barged in.

And then the rumbling stopped.

What Isaac had been expecting was daunting enough, but he nearly doubled over and died in shock at what actually greeted him.

Machines whirred at either side of the room, birthing thick, snaking, metal tubes from them. In the center of the room, a monstrous ball of raw energy hovered about two meters above the ground. It was a dark shade of indigo with burning white arcs dancing around it, making contact with the machines like a giant Van de Graaff generator that Isaac had the misfortune of stumbling into. And, in the center of this ball, was a tremendous figure as black as the night, with a flowing cloak, a spiked crimson collar, billowing white hair and massive black claws.

Isaac stood before the being with his mouth clenched shut. Off the top of his head, he was sure he was looking at a Darkrai.

Of course, he didn’t know enough to recognise distress in Darkrai—did anyone?—but that table definitely didn’t rip itself in half. Were the machines hurting them? He couldn’t imagine they helped, but would turning them off affect Altru’s mission? Would it endanger his colleagues? Isaac _hated_ moral quandaries, but his fidgeting solved nothing!

The best course of action, he concluded, was to turn off his scientist brain and ask: what would a Ranger do?

So, he grabbed the switch and turned off the power.

In the midst of the dying clunks and whirrs, the Darkrai stopped twitching and jerking. Their eyes opened, as clear and blue as the morning skies, and they looked down at Isaac.

“You… you don’t belong here, do you?” Isaac’s voice was hoarse as he spoke, uttering between breaths as he met their gaze. He wasn’t sure if they understood what he said, nor if they cared, but just in case… “Are you alright?”

Speaking to a captive Pokémon, he didn’t expect a substantive reply… but he interpreted their glance at their arms, chest, and skirt as one, as if they were saying everything was still intact. They followed it up with a cursory glance at the empty space behind them, which soon became a longing stare. Isaac figured that if they were listening…

“Hey,” he said, his voice hushed, yet pointed enough to grab their attention as he reached into his pocket. “I think you might… possibly… want this. More than I do, anyway.” 

Darkrai’s eye was drawn to the fragment of crystal in Isaac’s outstretched palm, their pale blue eye reflected in it. Their massive claws gently wrapped around his hands and took it.

“Is… that from your home?” 

Their attention turned to Isaac long enough to share a vigorous nod.

“I see! It’s always nice to have keepsakes from home, isn’t it? You know, um… I have one myself on my desk.”

They still looked at him, attentive.

“It’s a picture of my sister. Her name’s Melody, and I love her, and… um, I think she’d like you. She likes  Pokémon, really—and she loves writing songs!”

Isaac couldn’t quite tell, but it looked as though Darkrai appreciated that. Warmth flickered on their face as they gently placed the fragment on the floor, looking straight at Isaac with the desire to know more.

“… I have a notebook with some of them in. Would you like to see?”

So, he showed them his notebook and went over her lyrics in microscopic detail, and then some of his own little sketches. He talked with them about home, family, and late night questions. At their request, he even sat down and doodled them! 

Isaac thought. Both parties knew that. But, at the very least, Isaac wanted them to be happy in the big oil tanker. Miles away from home and family, surrounded by people who called him an unparalleled genius, yet where the only real conversation he’d had in a week was not with a colleague, but with a captive Darkrai.

As the sun rose and it was time to leave, Isaac had questions that simply had to be answered. 

He asked himself: was _he_ happy here?

Did _he_ belong here? 


End file.
